The Fictional Boy
by Sweet Cats
Summary: Annabeth has written stories for as long as she could remember; constantly trying to escape the horrors of everyday life. She'd never admit to anyone, if she had anyone to admit to, that she fell in love with the fictional hero, Percy Jackson, that she created. She would never expected to become an anonymous bestselling author at seventeen, or to have her secret love come to life.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'll talk at the end of the chapter. For now, I hope you guys like the types of stories/episodes of shows where they show a dramatic scene then jump back the next day or a few hours before to show how they got to that point before showing how the dramatic scene ends. If you understand that, great. Now that's what's happening here except next chapter will be YEARS in the past. If not, well, I hope you'll understand this story anyways and perhaps like it.**

 **This story is dedicated to all my loyal readers out there. Even if they don't review, even if they just lurk in the background. I love you all so much and thank you for giving me the ability to be within a fandom that appreciates me, even when I put out crappy work. But everyone's gotta start somewhere, right?**

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I took the box, a faint smile on my face. I mumbled a quiet thank you and handed the mailman a tip, carefully shutting the door behind me. I walked into my study, sitting down in my old leather desk chair and opening the box slowly. I pulled the book that was sitting there safely in between packing peanuts out and into my lap.

I gazed down at the cover weakly, tears in my eyes. It had taken me fifty-six years, but the truth was out. I knew it would cause the world great astonishment and I would most likely have photographers at my doorstep in the morning, but it would be worth it in the end. He was everything to me and I had to let him know somehow. Even if the message never got to him.

Blinking away the tears, I opened up the cover and moved my finger along the table of contents, reading it carefully to myself before moving onto the first chapter. The cursive writing was a pain to read with my dyslexia – even after all these years – but I slowly stumbled through it, reading softly to myself. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, wanting to burst with happiness.

I had completed my vow and now there was nothing left for me to do.

I had only made it through the first chapter when I felt a sudden darkness fall over me. The world suddenly felt cold and time around me seemed to slow. My face turned grim, knowing very well what was happening. I had hoped I would at least to be able to finish the book but it looks like destiny was impatient. Flipping to the copyright page, I took the letter off my desk and slid it in.

I felt the ground shake and I let out a sigh. "Very well, Thanatos. I'm going as fast as I can. Don't get your nickers in a twist."

I walked up the stairs, my breath heaving. I made my way to my bedroom and curled up on my bed, tucking myself under the sheets, eyes feeling droopy.

"I know you're being impatient with me because you're just mad that I made you look like the goth version of Cupid. Well, tough luck. I got a few final words and you do owe me a favor, jackass," I muttered. "First, I'd like to thank the academy-"

The bed shook.

"Kidding," I said and rolled my eyes. "I just miss him. I miss him a lot." My voice was strained and my eyes began to tear up, despite the laughter that wanted to escape after imagining Thanatos tapping his foot impatiently. "But it's okay. I'm okay. I've gone this long without him, what's another forever?" I looked down at my pillow sadly. "Maybe I wasn't the one, today nor the next. Aphrodite isn't exactly the most generous goddess twenty-four seven."

I felt my heart rate going slower as tears began to fall off my face. I heard a noise come from downstairs but it was already too late for whomever was there to see. My curls tumbled down across my face as I let loose my last breath. I was gone.

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 **A/N: Yeah, POV change. 99% chance I'll do only one POV per chapter in future chapters. Forgive me?**

* * *

I stumbled through the forest, my heart was racing. The wind hit my face fiercely, blowing my black hair all over my face. I was almost there. I was almost to her. I was so close now. I could see her. I could be with her. I could hug her and kiss her. I would never have to let her go – never again.

I reached the edge of the forest and jogged toward the small cottage house. I was so close now. My mind was clouded of thoughts about her. Her laugh, her smile, the way she'd crinkle her nose when she was thinking. With every step I was closer. Every step was another moment I'd have her in my arms again. I needed her. I was nothing without her – author or not.

I wasn't surprised to find the door open – I knew she'd leave it open for me. I scrambled around the house in search of her, my heart dropping with every empty room. I went into her study and my face paled at the picture of us on her desk. She kept it. She really kept it.

I slowly picked it up, rubbing my thumb on the little picture of her cheek. She was blushing in the photo, as the photographer had came out of nowhere. I found it funny that she kept it, considering she thought she looked terrible in the photo. But she didn't, as usual. She looked like she just walked out of a modeling studio.

I shook my head to get myself out of my daydream. I glanced down at the book that was sitting on her desk and picked it up. I couldn't understand what it was about, though. My dyslexia made the cover's words look like scribbles. Muttering a curse, I grabbed the book anyway and tucked it safely in my arms. I had to question her about it, after all. I'd actually like to know what was going to happen before it happens for once. I don't care how much I love her – she can be a real jerk sometimes. I think she likes the idea of torturing me.

I limped toward the stairs, pulling myself up each of them one by one. It took a good two minutes, given the length of the stairs, but I made it up and began my search. I couldn't find her. My nerves were beginning to get the best of me. My palms were sweating. My heart was racing. But then my gaze found her bedroom door, that was just open slightly a crack.

I swallowed before I pushed the door open. My eyes closed tightly; and deep down I knew what I would see. I didn't want to though. Even though she didn't come up to me and hug me, even though I didn't hear her soft breath or the sound of her keys typing away at her computer, writing my next quest. My head hung and I stepped inside, closing the door softly behind me. Opening my eyes, I stared at that what I feared to see the most, at the other side of the room.

She was there. Old and still so beautiful, but... motionless.

Looking back at it, most of the memory is fuzzy. I can't quite remember exactly what happened. I hadn't noticed the book falling out of my hands as I limped towards her, mouthing the word 'no' silently over and over again to myself. I pressed her still warm hand to my cheek. I felt sick to my stomach. It was all my fault. I never got to say goodbye.

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 **A/N: Sorry that was short. It was like only 1.1k words. :( I like to write big chapters. Like, 5k is what I like to do but it takes a while, lol. Also, sorry to whoever was hoping for a funny story. All good jokes come in good time.**

I wrote this chapter and chapter two a while ago, but I don't think two is done. And this one needed some fixing up, so... A week and a half wait between chapters, usually. Unless I get in a writing mood where I feel like posting eight chapters a day. Come on, guys. You know that's totally me. ;)

 **To my usual readers:** _First of all, I just want to thank you. Thank you for your continued support even though I disappeared. Thank you for loving my stories even if they were rubbish. Thank you for coming to every story and telling me how I did when I wanted criticism. I could come up with a million excuses, but none of them would truly comfort you, they most likely wouldn't seem sincere, and quite honestly, I'm sure you've heard them all before. But I'm sorry for disappearing. Quoting Doctor Who here, but I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

First of all, I was confused. I didn't understand for the longest time why people liked my stories. Before I had deleted the original "A Percabeth Life", it had over 44k total views. Do you know how amazing that is? But I still didn't understand *why*. But now I know. It's not because the story was well-written, and it wasn't even that funny, but it was because you liked the fluff. I wrote fluff in a way that was different from most. Sure it was cheesy as hell and deserved to go in the garbage, but it was enjoyable. And that's why I write. To make people smile.

The main reason I haven't written in a while, however, is because I *have* been writing. But I've been writing and rewriting over and over again, and I had an editor. I wasn't going to post this story until it was complete, in fear of never finishing it. I didn't want to disappoint you guys again. But I think now that it's better to post at all than waiting ten years to post, right? As I stated before, chapter two is mostly done. I have plenty of inspiration for this story, but I am into other fandoms and I want to write for them but it just isn't working quite yet. I'll learn to inspire myself with those stories all in good time.

And the second reason is that I'm busy. Between school, family, friend drama, it's hard to find time to do the things I enjoy. For example, I've taken up art. I love to draw manga and cartoons, and I'm studying human anatomy. I'd say I've taken after my mom - who is an artist - but that's not true. I found it enjoyable on my own. I suck at it right now, but it just takes practice. A lot of practice. And patience. And the ability to *see*.

I want to write. It's what I love to do. I'm trying to improve. And I'm not just doing it for myself. I'm doing it for you guys. I need this. I need to learn to accept criticism. I've gotten upset over it before. I need to learn to get a backbone, dammit! I'm not going to get on my knees and beg you guys to criticize my work though. While it's appreciated, I need to lighten up. You guys want stories, not writers begging for reviews! While any taco constructive criticism is appreciated - along with normal happy fangirl reviews where you go on and on about how amazing the chapter was, lol - and really loved, I do need to learn how to spot mistakes and terrible stuff in my writing. But you guys can still review. I love hearing from you guys too much. :D

 **I wrote a word that has to do with food somewhere within my very long speech. If you can spot it, and you read all of the speech, put it in your review if you decide to review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: For once, FanFiction doesn't seem to be messing with my stuff. Well, not the actual story. It *is* messing with my italics and boldings and stuff. Does it bug me? Quite. Am I too busy to fix it? Yeah.**

 **I wasn't planning on posting any more chapters for today. But TwoLlamas reviewed for me - my first review for this story, yay! - and they're an old loyal reader, and I felt obliged to post. Um, oops? Well, I am feel inspired so I guess I'm posting.**

 _THIS CHAPTER GOES OUT TO TwoLlamas, WHO WAS MY FIRST REVIEWER FOR THIS STORY! :D_

 _(This chapter was a pain in the butt. The spacing was all over the place - gave up on it after a while so forgive me if it's a pain to your eyes, it is to mine - and I had to completely redo the POV because I accidentally wrote it in third person rather than first person. I enjoy first person more, and I think I write it better so I had to switch it. Have you guys ever had to do that? This chapter was like 1.8k words. That's a *lot* of fixing. Hope it's worth it!)_

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 _=56 Years Earlier=  
_

* * *

Stumbling through the snowy New York City sidewalks in a bitter cold December day, I scowled to myself as someone crashed into me, the person not even bothering to apologize. I nervously fixed my itchy, now-static-infused wig on my head, praying nobody had seen the flash of blonde on my scalp, and pushed open the door to the office building, mumbling a quiet 'hello' to the secretary who didn't even care to acknowledge me.

 _'Ah, yes. What a wonderful time of the year_ ,' I thought to myself sarcastically as I walked into the elevator, silently cursing my fellow New Yorkers. I sniffled my red weather-bitten nose in annoyance as a man joined me in the elevator checked me out (whom was _way_ too old for my comfort), pushing a high number on the elevator's wall.

"Why aren't you a pretty little thing," he commented, eyeing me in a creepy manner. ' _Pervert._ ' "Where you headin', sweet cheeks?"

"None of your business," I replied stiffly. I inched away from him a little, not liking the feeling of the way his eyes were on my chest. Of course I picked today of all days to wear a V-neck under my unzipped jacket. I suddenly wanted to kick the guy in the soft spot but I figured that wasn't very professional.

He smirked. "Bet you're one of the assistants, yeah? I wouldn't talk to me like that if I were you, missy, or I'll call your supervisor. I'm the head editor around these parts and I control a good chunk of this building." He straightened his posture proudly. I felt like I wanted to puke. "Now, what was your name, sweetie?"

I mentally snorted. The last thing I needed was one of the employees hitting on me, causing attention. It would ruin the point of wearing the stupid itchy wig and contacts. Today just kept getting better and better.

I raised an eyebrow, a blank expression on my face. There was no way I was going to let him treat me like this anyhow. "Head Editor?"

"Yeah," he said with a smirk. "Why? You like a man with power, honey?" The wink he gave made me wonder how the Hades I had so much willpower not to stab him.

Instead I said, "Oh, no, that isn't it." I tilted my head at him, a sugar-sweet smile adorning my face. I batted my eyelashes innocently. "I wouldn't talk to me like that if I were you, hotshot, or I'll call your supervisor. I'm an investor around these parts and I control a good chunk of this building. Now, what were you saying, _sweetie_?"

I knew it was a bad idea to say such a thing and draw attention from within the building, but at least I hadn't revealed I was one of the many authors so I considered that a score.

He paled, his eyes darting away. He seemed rather relieved when we reached his floor, scrambling to get out. With a roll of my eyes, I pushed my number and the elevator zoomed up to the top floor.

I walked along, the only person in the hallway, my two-inch chrome heels clicking along the hardwood oak flooring. I opened the very last door in the hallway, giving the man at the end of the conference table a straight face as I shut it behind me.

"Hello, Mister Skewer," I greeted. I sat down gracefully in the chair next to his, setting my purse down on the seat beside me. My fingers twitched at my side anxiously.

He smiled. There was a little flame in his almond-colored eyes, reminding me of a warm fireplace from over a decade ago. The mere sight of him warmed my insides and calmed me somehow. "Hello, Miss Claire. How was your day?"

I ignored his question like I did every other week. I couldn't tell anyone what happened in my personal life, even Mr. Skewer. "How are the sales?" I asked instead, forcing a fake smile.

He seemed hurt that I wouldn't reply, but I decided not to comment. He said, "Booming again, thanks to the release of ' _Blood of Olympus_.'"

"Great. I guess that means I can be expecting a bonus?" I questioned, my fake smile flickering.

He nodded his head in agreement, flipping through the binder in front of him. "So," he began. "We need to talk about the planning of the next series. I was thinking something with Norse mythology? I think we should discuss the-"

I felt my heart pound. "No."

Mr. Skewer stared at her. "What?"

"No," I repeated, a bit more confidently. "There's not going to be another book. Never again. I wish to only be an investor in this company from now on and I hope you will respect my decision."

He looked at me with shock. "Miss Fare, normally I would respect and support all your decisions – you are quite wise, please understand that I acknowledge that - but this one is rather chaotic."

I just shrugged.

He gave me a pointed look. "Miss Fare, you are our best-selling author – without you, we will have next to nothing profits. You're practically carrying this company."

"That I am."

He sighed, rubbing his reddish-brown beard. "This isn't a smart business decision, especially with you being our highest investor. Please, take my advice and look at this situation through the eyes of an investor, which you are. You'll lose your royalties, your investments will be worth almost nothing, our stocks will go down and-"

"I'm okay with it happening."

He frowned in disappointment. "But are your parents?"

I looked down at my lap in defeat. I tried to argue, "I'm sure my parents will be fine with-"

"Are you really?" he pressed.

I sighed, mumbling 'no'.

The man looked at me sadly. "I'm sorry I had to pull that card, Claire, but it is for your best interest, and the company's. You know the consequences of abandoning this line of work." He backed away from the table, tucking the binder under his arm. "We can discuss this another time. I believe…" He paused, taking a sharp breath. "I believe that, perhaps, you need some time to think things over."

I didn't want to admit that he was right about the company, looking away in shame. My parents would kill me if I even tried to leave. "Mr. Skewer-"

"We'll continue this conversation next week," he interrupted. "Take some time off, Claire. Try to get away from the family and relax for a while. It's for your own good. Tell them I'm sending you on a business trip to resolve some copyright claims." He gave her an apologetic look. "I know how it can get with them."

I wanted to say, ' _You really don't_.' But nobody could know how it was at home. So, instead, I weakly replied, "Yes, sir."

"So it's settled," he said confidentially. "I'll be sending you on a trip to Montauk tomorrow morning then, yes?"

The corner of my mouth twitched. The irony came crashing down on me like a tidal wave. "Mr. Skewer, I request anywhere but- "

"It will help you become inspired," he said, smiling softly. "The place is beautiful. I've been there and have a great lodging location. Besides, it's cheaper now that it's winter. You'll probably be the only camper. Now, go home and tell your parents about the copyright claims. Get packed."

I stood up. "Surely there is somewhere else I could go to and- "

"There will be a car out front at nine," he said, ignoring me. I felt like a toddler again, wanting to throw a tantrum and scream. But there was no mom to comfort me or buy me ice-cream. "Now, if you excuse me, I have other matters to attend to, Miss Fare."

I looked away from him, staring out at the conference room's floor-to-ceiling windows at the snow that was falling down outside gently, creating a small blanket on top of the nearby skyscrapers' roofs. "Yes, sir."

Without looking back, he rolled his wheelchair out of the room mutely.

"Montauk," I said to myself quietly. "Lovely, just lovely." I grimaced, throwing my purse over my shoulder and practically stomping out of the room. "Get away from everything at _Montauk_?" I asked the ceiling – as if someone was listening - throwing my hands up in the air exasperatedly. "You're kidding me. What's next? We'll stop at the Empire State Building's secret 400th floor on the way?"

Annoyed, I slammed the side of my hand against the '1' button on the elevator, huffing. I then proceeded to shuffle my way outside and hailing a cab to take me home.

Mr. Skewer took care of everything with my dad, thank the gods. I didn't have to talk to him after all. And nobody was home when I had arrived so I managed to go to my room without fetching Brittney something or getting yelled at by my father. All I had to do was pack. But it still didn't mean I wanted to go.

I guess I should explain a little. My Dad is unemployed. When he found out I had a fortune that I was keeping from him in a secret bank account, he quit his job as a history professor and thus began the days of him spending all my hard-earned money. Like the useless mansion and two sports cars he bought. Or the trophy wife, Brittney. She's a total ass and thinks I'm her maid.

If it weren't for the fact I was a year too young to live alone, I would have been long gone from this hellhole years ago. It wasn't always like this, though. Not since Mom died. Dad used to be different. He wasn't like this.

I grabbed the suitcase out of my closet and stuffed a few lounging-around outfits in there along with the billion identity-hiding outfits into it. I filled a small bag that matched the suitcase with toiletries like my toothbrush, hairbrush, etc. and put both bags next to my bedroom door.

With a sigh, I grabbed my laptop from my desk and opened up a new document. I began typing away, my body relaxing with each key tapped. It was my way of relaxing. My own way of meditating. There was no feeling like writing.

By the time I had looked at the clock again, it was time to go to bed. I closed the lid of the laptop, shoving it under my bed. I brushed my teeth, not bothering to change my clothes, and slipped into my bed.

I could hear my Dad and Brittney arguing down the hall over something stupid. One of them probably cheated on the other – again. I rolled my eyes. This is my winter break, everybody. Typical.

I looked over at the window from across the room. Since we were in the suburbs due to our mansion, we were far enough away from the city that I could actually see stars without too much city-light sky pollution.

I closed my eyes, and for once in a long time, I fell asleep with a smile on my face. That night, I dreamed of all the stars in the sky. I dreamed that I was a star. Everyday problems didn't feel so bad when the universe is so big.


	3. Chapter 3

This chapter goes out to my somewhat-new best friend, Alyssa, even if you never read this because I'll never show it to you because I hate showing off my writing to people. After my friend Katie, I thought I'd never really have any friends again, but between you and Emma, you have both turned my life upside down and I really can't thank you enough. I feel empowered to know that I have friends whom care about me even though I can be weird. In like, _the creepy anti-social hermit that_ _home-schools_ weird.

Oh, and guys, guess what? She likes everything I like! ^^ PJO, The Flash, Arrow, and she homeschools. ^^ She said she might watch Teen Titans (not TTG, the original TT) - my favorite show of all time - if she ever gets the time. Isn't she the bestest?!

* * *

I watched the roadside go past through the window with a frown. I mean, sure, I'd love to get away from my family – if you could call us that – but it didn't mean I wanted to go to Montauk. Mr. Skewer wanted me to get away from the books, not get a better feel for the characters. Either way, it was too late now. And I brought my laptop along anyway. I felt safer knowing I had it near.

The black minivan pulled out in front of the cabin I'd be staying in, and I let out a sigh. I wasn't sure if it was out of relief or annoyance. The driver went to the back out of the car and got my stuff out for me as I stepped out of the car, my purse tightly strapped to my shoulder.

"Why are you wearing sunglasses in winter?" My driver laughed.

"Prescription," I answered with ease. "Eye doctor asked me to protect my eyes. They're worried I have eye cancer and asked me to be careful a few days ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry." The driver's voice sounded extremely apologetic and sincere and I felt bad for lying to him. I was really just too lazy to put in fake contacts. The problems of hiding your identity to the world, no?

I groaned when I noticed there were two cabins, not just the one. So I couldn't go walking around outside without wearing a wig. I tugged my hoodie further over my head, fuming. I thanked the driver and tipped him, carrying my bags toward the front door. Taking the key Mr. Skewer gave me out of my pocket, I unlocked the cabin and quickly hurried in with my stuff in tow. The freezing lake breeze was getting to me already.

I flipped on the lights, glancing around. My nose wrinkled at the sight of the dust and I prayed to the gods that I remembered to bring along allergy medicine. After a bit of exploration, the cabin consisted of a small kitchen that looked like it was built in the 80s, the living room was just an old TV on a TV stand with a beat up couch. The bathroom and bedroom didn't look like they were much better. I couldn't imagine Mr. Skewer living in this thing, if only for a week or so at a time.

Still, I was away from Dad and Brittney and I had it to myself so I was content.

I got my phone out of my pocket and checked for service. Thank the gods I did so I wouldn't die from being without Wi-Fi for more than five hours. This girl without her phone is nothing. I stuffed my phone back into my pocket and began to clean everything. There was no way I was going to live in a pigsty.

When I was all done, I sighed and took off my clothes and put on some other stuff, leaving myself in just my underwear and a shirt that was about three sizes too big on me. It wasn't like I was going to be seeing anyone anytime soon so screw it.

I sat down on the couch, grumbling. Other than playing on my phone and laptop, I had nothing to do. Unless staring at a frozen lake for hours on end, getting hypothermia, was considered 'fun'. This 'paradise' just kept getting better and better.

I looked out the window, staring across at the other cabin. No light was coming from inside so at least I could walk around without a wig on. I got this eerie feeling from looking at the cabin, though. It looked _exactly_ like the one from my books. I decided I must have been going mad. Maybe Mr. Skewer was right – I needed to get away from everything. Shaking my head, I flopped down on the couch and took a well-deserved nap.

I woke up to the sound of a knock at my door. I groaned, shoving the pillow over my head. Couldn't a girl vacation for once? But the knocking continued, so I groggily dragged myself off of the couch. I grabbed my wig and shoved it on my head. I went over to the door and opened it, yawning.

"Yeah?" I asked, squinting at the person in front of me.

My eyes were crusty from my nap and I could barely see. Even after cleaning, the dust was making my allergies go haywire. I managed to notice the person was a guy, at least, and he was a lot taller than me. Like, _a lot_ taller. Yay, just another person to make me feel self-conscious about myself for being short. Oh, and he had black hair. Other than that, all I saw was a blur. The man didn't seem to be looking at me for some strange reason though, but that was okay, because I couldn't look at him either quite frankly.

"Sorry to bug you," he said and rubbed his neck awkwardly. His voice was deep and I wanted to kick myself because I found it sexy. I was not allowed to have a crush. Not possible. "I'm staying in the other cabin with my girlfriend," he explained, "and she told me to tell you that we're staying in the other cabin. Just so you know, I mean. Giving you a heads-up."

So, there goes the no-wig plan. Shit. I was really looking forward to dancing around my cabin to Beyoncé because nobody would hear me, see me or care.

And at that point I realized the guy was purposely not looking at me because I was standing there in the outfit that I put on earlier. You know, the underwear and shirt that was _way_ too big. I wasn't even wearing a bra. I turned red and quickly looked away from him. Well, what I could see of him. And I also mentally wanted to kick myself again, because I thought a guy who had a _girlfriend_ had a sexy voice.

What is wrong with me?

"Right," I said. My face felt hotter than lava. "Um, thanks."

"Yeah," he said in a monotone voice. "So, I'll just, uh, go back now. See you around."

"You too," I said and bit my lip. I carefully shut the door and didn't move until I heard his footsteps get quieter and eventually silent.

Then, I proceeded to slam my hand to my forehead repeatedly and curse my own name out for being the world's largest idiot. I allowed myself let out a frustrated groan. Why couldn't have my new camping-buddies been an old guy and his pet dog? Why did it have to be a guy with a sexy voice and his totally lucky girlfriend?

I then proceeded to slap my forehead again for falling for a guy just by his voice. I didn't even _see_ the guy and I have a crush on him. And I gave an extra slap for immediately diagnosing that I liked the guy. Like, couldn't I wait a while to find out? I mean, it was pretty obvious to me considering that I write romance and I know all the signs and such, but still.

I pulled on the strings to the blinds on each of the windows and shut them before going over to the couch and flopping down, flipping through the channels. It only went up to 23, and the only things to watch were previous-nights sport tournaments and shows about antiques. I turned the TV off with much frustration and went to the bedroom to fall back asleep, quietly cursing the TV station for having _Scorpion_ on Monday nights and not Tuesdays.

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Okay, I didn't want this chapter to be short, but what I originally had planned made the story-line be *way* too fast paced. So, now that I spent the last hour on debating which pieces to post, this is what I managed to scramble together. I hope you don't mind. I'm just trying to do the best I can from making the plot from going too fast. This chapter was only 1.2k words long. Sorry! I'll try to do better but it felt better than also including what she does the next morning.

 **IMPORTANT:** _I apologize for the confusion. I think a few may not know this, but this is a rewrite of the original "The Fictional Boy" that I had made a while back. This story has also made me feel a strange feeling for it. I honestly think that for once, my writing isn't totally bad and I have something really decent here and I really think I can finish this story, and its sequel(s?). I hope you all like it as much as I do._

Thank you to all whom have reviewed. You do not understand what joy it brings to me to know that there are people out there who like my writing. And all the reviews on my other stories too. Really. I love you guys. My old writing might not be garbage compared to a lot of stories on here, but it was compared to the stuff I usually read. *cough* Jane Austen & other classic novels *cough* 


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